


One Look at You

by Selenay



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Glasses kink, M/M, Paperwork Is Not Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I said, I think the spark has gone."</p>
<p>"Why do you think that?" Phil asked absently.</p>
<p>"Because I've been standing here the last five minutes and you haven't even looked at me," Clint said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Look at You

**Author's Note:**

> For various reasons, I'm a bit stressed right now and that always results in me writing fluff. Except this particular piece of fluff went in a pornier direction than I'd expected.

"Hey, Phil."

"Hmm?"

Phil frowned down at the briefing pack on the table in front of him and highlighted another passage. He was probably going to need Agent May's input on this.

"I think the spark has gone out of our relationship."

He turned the page and carefully traced the flow-chart a helpful analyst had added. This was turning out to be a much more complicated scenario than the initial intel had suggested.

"I said, I think the spark has gone."

Phil made a note in the margin to ask for Agent May's opinion. Her experience in the field on this cartel was a lot more recent than anything else they had and it was always better to go right to the source rather than reading through reports.

"Why do you think that?" he asked absently.

"Because I've been standing here the last five minutes and you haven't even looked at me," Clint said. "Six months ago, this wouldn't have happened."

"Six months ago, we didn't have a relationship," Phil said without thinking, his mind and eyes still on his work.

"Six months ago you kissed me in the middle of a battlefield while I was covered in slime and then you took me home and fucked my brains out." Clint paused and then added, "Six months ago today, in fact."

That brought Phil out of his work trance and he raised his head from the page to look at Clint.

He kept looking as all the air suddenly left his lungs.

Clint was lounging in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. The briefs didn't do much to conceal anything: they clung so close to every curve and enticing bulge that Clint might as well have been naked. For some reason Phil always found the hints of what he might be seeing almost as much of a turn on as Clint actually being naked and Clint, the bastard, knew it.

Which was probably why Clint was wearing that particular set of underwear.

It took a while before Phil could drag his eyes upward to look at Clint's face and he choked again as he did it.

Clint wasn't only wearing a pair of boxer briefs after all. He was also wearing a pair of Phil's old, thick-rimmed reading glasses and the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smirk when he realised Phil was speechless.

"Hi," Clint said. "Are you back with me now?"

"Why are you wearing those?" Phil asked, feeling completely out of his depth.

He hadn't known that Clint in glasses and very little else would be such a turn on. There was just something about the way the heavy rims framed his eyes and made him look strangely studious that stuck a nerve Phil hadn't realised he had. It was probably the contrast of the intellectual appearance and the near-nudity that did it, Phil acknowledged, and then he wondered how he'd feel if Clint wore the glasses with more clothes - maybe a good suit - and he had to cough at that mental image.

Clint touched the arm of the glasses self-consciously. "These? I was trying something out. You look shit-hot when you're wearing them and I always want to tear your clothes off when you do. Like right now. So I was wondering whether they were a thing for you as well."

"I'm not sure," Phil said with the blandest expression he could manage under the circumstances. "You're not wearing enough clothes for this to be a good test of whether I want to tear them off you."

"Huh. I could fix that, if you'd prefer."

"Maybe another day."

The smirk shifted into a full grin. "It's like that, is it? Good to know. You have a thing for guys with glasses."

"I think it's more that I have a thing for you in glasses."

"I can work with that," Clint said cheerfully. "I can definitely work with that."

"So, six months," Phil said. "Are you sure?"

"I've got the day marked in the calendar. It's definitely been six months."

"And you think we should mark the occasion."

"If you can tear yourself away from your work long enough."

Phil looked around the kitchen. There were files spread out across one of the counters as well as the table he was sitting at and the containers from the takeout they'd eaten while they were working together earlier were stacked by the sink. Clint had finished writing his report a long time ago and wandered away while Phil continued working and drinking coffee. The sun had set a long time ago and the only illumination was the single pot light over the table, which should have been a sign that it was time to give in for the night but Phil had never been good at knowing when to call things quits. His team wasn't due to go into the field for few more days but he'd got lost in the briefing packet and the problems it presented.

Of course, that was before Clint appeared in the kitchen doorway with a completely different plan.

"I can tear myself away," Phil admitted. "I'm not doing a good job of remembering our anniversaries, am I?"

"You'll remember the big stuff," Clint said, unconcerned. "Anyway, you bought me dinner and earlier today you shot a monster for me. That seems like a pretty good set of memories for our six month anniversary anyway."

"I didn't know you'd seen me." 

"You always think I won't notice when you're doing things behind me, but I saw it. That thing would have taken my head off and you shot it and then kicked its head in just in case. It was kind of hot."

"So what did you have in mind?" Phil gestured to the glasses. "I assume you're planning something specific, not just lounging around hopefully."

"I was planning to suck your cock until you scream," Clint said bluntly. "If that's OK?"

Phil raised an eyebrow, trying to sound calm despite Clint's words. "You come to me looking like that and _you_ expect to be the one giving?"

"Pretty much."

Clint pushed away from the doorframe and slowly prowled across the kitchen, which did all sorts of interesting things to the outlines under his boxer briefs. Phil felt his face heat and marvelled that there was enough blood in his body to do that when so much of it had rushed below his waistline a while ago.

"You should feel free to suck my cock after if you really want to," Clint said thoughtfully. "But I'm pretty sure there won't be any need. Not for a while, anyway. You know how much I like doing this."

"Maybe a belated anniversary gift tomorrow morning? I could set the alarm a few minutes early."

"Sounds good."

Clint sank gracefully to his knees and put his hands on Phil's thighs. They were warm and heavy and Phil shivered when Clint tightened his grip for a moment before sliding his hands up to rest below Phil's hips. Clint traced the outline of Phil's cock through the fabric of his pants with the tips of his thumbs, just enough pressure and not enough all at the same time and Phil bucked up against it involuntarily. The low, filthy chuckle Clint gave when he saw the reaction sounded almost obscene. His eyes were intent as he grabbed Phil's hips more firmly and pulled him forward on the chair.

It all felt amazing and Phil almost let himself be swept away in the intensity of Clint's focus, but there was something he needed first. He had to swallow thickly a couple of times before he could get his voice to work.

"Aren't you missing a step?" Phil asked.

There was a question in Clint's eyes when he looked up. Phil smiled and brushed a finger over Clint's lips, feeling the warmth of Clint's sudden exhale and enjoying the way his eyes widened behind the thick glasses.

"Right," Clint said. "Yeah, I guess I did."

He surged up, balancing with his hands on Phil's thighs, and Phil leaned down they could meet in a long, tender kiss. Phil sighed against Clint's mouth and tasted chocolate and coffee on his tongue.

There were some days when Phil was amazed he'd waited as long as he had before finally kissing Clint. If he'd known that kissing Clint would be this good, he probably wouldn't have been able to hold off. It was only the realisation that Clint had come so close to dying, yet again, and one day it might really happen that had given him the push to do it. Clint dying without knowing how much Phil loved him would have been more than Phil could bear, so he'd kissed Clint despite the slime liberally coating everything. He hadn't been prepared for Clint to kiss him back and he'd nearly fallen over in the muck as the impact of Clint's immediate response crashed down on him. It had been the best moment of his life, slime and all.

"I'm never going to get tired of being able to do that," Clint said when they pulled apart. "Never."

"Neither am I," Phil said.

He was aware they were grinning at each other goofily for a minute but he didn't really care. This wasn't something anyone else would ever see, this moment together, so there was no point holding it in.

Clint pressed another kiss against his lips and then nipped sharply at his jaw, as if trying to remind Phil that he had another purpose here. Maybe another night they'd just spend hours making out on the kitchen floor, but tonight he had other plans.

Phil's jacket and tie had been taken off and hung up as soon as they walked through the door, one of the habits he'd picked up since Clint started spending most nights here. Although Clint spent a couple of minutes licking and sucking open-mouth kisses at the skin just under his collar, no clever fingers tried to unbutton his shirt. It was one of the things Clint seemed to enjoy; the image of Phil still mostly clothed and struggling to look dignified while Clint was naked and taking Phil apart with his hands and mouth. Phil sometimes thought he should feel guilty about how much he liked it, but every time he tried to feel guilty he remembered how turned on Clint got when the tables were turned so he stopped trying.

Clint finally pulled away neck and sank lower to touch his lips against the fabric covering Phil's cock and then breathe out slowly across it. The feel of the warm air and the expression in Clint's eyes when he glanced up through his eyelashes were enough to make Phil grit his teeth against a moan.

"Hey, I promised to make you scream," Clint said quietly. "Don't go holding out on me."

Phil rolled his eyes. "I'm not."

"I can see the muscles in your jaw. You're trying to."

"I didn't want you to have to declare success too early."

Clint's eyes narrowed. "I think that sounds like a challenge."

"You can interpret it however you like."

Phil stifled another groan as Clint sucked a wet kiss onto the fabric over his aching dick and blew across the damp material. He couldn't stop watching as Clint unbuckled his belt and carefully opened the fly. There was so much intensity to Clint's expression whenever they were together like this that it sometimes took Phil's breath away. He could remember wondering what it would be like to be the focus of one of those looks before they got together. Now he knew and he felt thankful every day for it.

Clint shoved impatiently at Phil's pants and underwear and Phil tried to help but his hands were batted away with a mischievous grin. So he settled for lifting slightly in the chair when Clint instructed and sighing with relief when Clint finally freed his cock from its fabric confines.

"Getting a little tight in there?" Clint asked cheerfully.

Phil tried to answer but his words were lost in a loud grunt when Clint licked up his length and swallowed him down. The wet heat of Clint's mouth was almost enough to make him come right there but somehow he didn't and Clint looked up with laughter dancing in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.

They'd probably both need to hope that Clint never needed to wear glasses for an undercover mission because Phil didn't think he'd ever be able to see him in them without remember this moment.

Clint pulled up slightly and pressed Phil's hips down when he involuntarily bucked upwards. Phil scrabbled urgently for something to hold onto, something to keep his hands out of Clint's hair, because he knew how much Clint disliked feeling trapped when they did this. It was something they'd learned early in their relationship and Phil never wanted to see that expression in Clint's eyes again. Without breaking the rhythm of wet suction he'd quickly established, Clint freed a hand and reached out to weave their fingers together.

Phil took the offering immediately, holding on palm to palm and relishing the strength in Clint's grip. He rested his other hand on Clint's bare shoulder and felt the muscles ripple under Clint's skin with every bob and shift of his head.

The heat and the suction and the sheer power of Clint's body would have been more than enough to bring Phil off quickly on their own. The soft grunts and moans Clint made, though, and the moments when Clint's rhythm broke so he could pant and shudder made it impossible to last. Just the thought that Clint wanted this, wanted him, so much that he was shivering and aching with need and Phil had barely touched him was too much. Phil's climax seemed to be pulled up from the very soles of his feet and he came with a long, groaning shout that he couldn't have suppressed even if he'd wanted to.

He was fuzzily aware of Clint sucking him through his orgasm and then pulling off with a soft slurp when he too sensitive for any more sensation; of Clint's hand leaving his hip and Clint groaning, low and desperate, a few moments later.

It was a while before Phil really returned fully, though, and he looked down to find Clint half slumped against him and blinking up sleepily. The glasses were slightly skewed on Clint's face now where his head was resting against Phil's thigh and there was a smug, happy expression on Clint's lips.

"Told you I was going to suck your cock until you screamed," Clint said, his voice raspy and wrecked.

Phil leaned down to kiss the top of Clint's head. "You did."

"I always keep my promises."

"It's one of your more endearing qualities."

"I promised six months ago that I was in this for the long haul," Clint said seriously. "That's another promise I plan to keep."

This time when Phil leaned down, Clint tilted his head and stretched up so they could kiss slowly and softly. Phil could taste himself on Clint's lips and he wondered how he'd ever thought he could last a lifetime without this.

Clint grinned when they drew apart and knelt back, and then he stifled a quiet, pained grunt. "Ow."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing a bit less tiling won't fix," Clint said. "Remind me to bring a cushion the next time I blow you in the kitchen."

Despite his pained wince and complaints, Clint was quick and efficient as he pulled Phil's pants back into place and fastened the fly.

Phil felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Blowing me in the kitchen is something you plan to do frequently?"

"If you keep working late like this, probably."

"Will you be wearing the glasses when you do it?"

"Fuck yeah," Clint said cheerfully. "If they get you this hot and bothered then we're definitely repeating this."

Phil wondered whether now was a good time to ask Clint about the glasses-and-suit idea, but Clint stood and he got distracted by the sight of the dark wet stain on Clint's boxer briefs and the unexpected surge of possessive pride it produced. He let Clint pull him to his feet and lead him out of the kitchen. His legs still felt shaky from the strength of his climax and judging by the way Clint steered them haphazardly down the hall, he thought Clint wasn't feel much steadier.

At the bedroom door, he tugged on Clint's hand to stop him and cupped his jaw. "Is the spark still gone in our relationship?"

The wide, happy smile on Clint's face was all the answer Phil needed but it still felt good to hear Clint say, "Never."

They stripped quickly and fell into bed. Phil wrapped his arms around Clint's waist and spooned up behind him, feeling content and happy in a way he hadn't been for a long time before Clint came into his life. He felt Clint tangle their fingers together again and he rubbed a thumb soothingly over Clint's knuckles for a while.

"Phil?" Clint asked just as Phil was on the edge of drifting away.

"Hmm?" Phil said sleepily.

"Forgot to say I love you."

"I love you too."

Phil kissed the back of Clint's neck and fell asleep with a soft smile on his face and Clint warm in his arms.


End file.
